Lothiriel's adventures in Minas Tirith and Beyond
by KatyaWood
Summary: All are gathered in Minas Tirith to celebrate the dawn of peace. But there are still rebels in Gondor, those who have a grudge against those who rode to war. A story of adventure and romance
1. Chapter 1

Lothiriel, princess of Dol Amroth, sat back on her heels and sighed in relief. She had only just arrived in Minas Tirith; the way from Dol Amroth finally being pronounced safe enough for her to travel up for the new King's coronation. She had always felt stifled by the quantity of stone in this city, and tried to find excuses to escape wherever possible. While she loved riding out of the city as often as she could, it was always hard to brush the mud out of her beautiful horse's long blond tail, let alone the rest of her. Finally, she had finished and rose to put her brushes away. She had been aware for some time of one of the other horses in the large stables kicking gently at the sides of a stall. Now she heard a nicker from the same stall, so she felt she had to investigate.

The large stables at Minas Tirith currently housed horses belonging to people from all over Middle-Earth. Her own horse was stalled between a powerful grey from Rohan and her father's own roan. Walking swiftly towards the source of the noise, she was soon standing in front of the largest grey war horse she had ever seen. "What ails you, my friend?" she asked the horse softly, who snorted and nodded his head towards her, pushing his nose into her outstretched hand. Lothiriel laughed softly at his antics and produced a chunk of carrot from one of her capacious cloak pockets. Looking at the tack hanging on the nails in the stallion's stall, she knew the horse to belong to one of the Rohirrim. "Will you let me see to you?" she asked, a frown of worry crossing her face as the stallion kicked out at the wall again.

The horse snorted, but backed away from the door, as if to grant her entrance.

Slowly, Lothiriel entered the stall, talking softly all the time as she approached the horse and ran her soft hands over his flanks, looking for any abnormalities. Her fingers closed over something in the leg that the stallion had been kicking out with, and she gently pulled it out, staring with horror at the small, evil-looking dart in her hand.

"I must go, my friend" she told the stallion quickly, running her free hand down the velvety nose as she left, running out of the stable, colliding headlong with a man who was just walking through the doors.

Strong hands steadied her and she looked up at the large, blond haired man apologetically. "Forgive me, my Lord, I did not see you" she said, realising as she spoke that the young man was a Rohirric Warrior. "Do you know where I might find someone to take care of one of your horses?" she asked, seeing a frown of worry cross the man's face. The men of Rohan cared for their horses as deeply as their own kin.

"What has happened?" he asked quickly, his dark eyes fixing on her face.

A little unnerved by the intense gaze, Lothiriel showed him the dart she had taken from the stallions leg. "The big grey stallion had this stuck at the top of his foreleg. He was kicking out, and I think he's in a lot of pain."

The soldier's eyes had widened as she described the horse. "Show me" he said shortly.

Lothiriel, touched by the worried expression, hurried back to the horse, the big man easily keeping pace beside her with his long strides. As she paused in front of the stallion, the soldier hissed sharply. The horse nickered at his approach, but did not come to meet him. "Firefoot" the soldier said, a touch of panic in his deep voice as he turned to Lothiriel. "I need to beg a favour" he said. "Do you know where the Rohan guest quarter is?"

Lothiriel nodded.

"Ask for Eothain, tell him the King's horse may have been poisoned with Akailen. Please hurry." The soldier turned back to the wounded horse and Lothiriel picked up her skirts and ran through the city.

She arrived moments later, breathless and panting, coming to a halt abruptly as the two men guarding the gate to the Rohan quarter crossed their spears in her path.

"State your business" one said, not unkindly as he took in her panicked state.

"I have been sent to find Eothain" Lothiriel managed, trying to catch her breath. "The King's horse may have been poisoned with Akailen."

Her words caused one of the guards to drop his spear and run into the Rohan housing before she had even finished.

"How do you know?" the other asked, his concern showing in his eyes.

"I pulled a dart from his leg. I met one of your kin as I made to leave the stables, and he said it might have been poisoned."

"The King rode out this morning" the guard said. "The dart must have been shot at him. We must find the King." The last sentence was spoken within the returning guard's hearing as he hurried back with an older, grizzled man in tow.

"The King headed for the stables several minutes ago" the older man, who Lothiriel presumed to be Eothain, said as he passed. "Inside the city walls, he should be safe, but send two men to me anyway. I must go to Firefoot. Would you like to see how he fares?" he asked Lothiriel politely, adding as they moved off: "If it is the King who sent you to me, he will be no help at all. I will need him out of the way."

In moments, they were back in the stables. The soldier was speaking to the horse in rapid, lilting Rohirric, but turned as they approached.

"He is getting worse; he is unsteady on his feet and he is feeling pain" he said, looking for all the world like the parent of an ill baby.

"Yes, my lord" Eothain replied in a comfortable voice, putting a strong hand on his shoulder. "Now if you would just follow the lady outside, I can see what needs to be done." With that, the bigger man was pushed gently but firmly out of the stall. "Send a guard in to me when they arrive, my Lord"

Lothiriel looked up at the big soldier, who was apparently the King of Rohan. He swept a big hand through his long blond hair and turned his worried gaze back to his horse. "Come with me" she said, putting a gentle hand to his elbow and pulling him with her out of the stable. The rain had stopped and the warm sun had dried a low bench that stood on the side of the path. Lothiriel led the King over to the bench and sat him down. "Eothain will know what to do" she said soothingly, patting his arm as she watched his lack of response with some concern. Rapid footsteps made her look up to see two of the Rohirrim approaching. They stopped in front of the bench and bowed. "My lord King, what news?" one asked respectfully. Eomer just looked up at them and frowned.

"Eothain is with Firefoot" Lothiriel said, when it became apparent that the King was not going to reply. "He has asked for one of you to help him." The guards turned quizzical eyes on her and then they both saluted the King, one retreating to stand guard a short distance away as the other slipped into the stables.

They sat for some minutes in silence, and then the King turned to Lothiriel, his eyes seeming to focus properly for the first time since they had met. "Forgive me" he said, his deep voice slow as his dark gaze swept over her. "In my worry I sent you on errands without even knowing who you are. We are a simple people, in the Riddermark. When it comes to trouble with our horses, all niceties are forgotten."

"Please do not apologise" Lothiriel said earnestly, adding with a smile: "My brothers are exactly the same. I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and I presume you must be the King of Rohan?"

"My name is Eomer." He told her. "You are Prince Imrahil's daughter? I am indeed ashamed of my behaviour, my Lady. Imrahil would be horrified if he knew I sent his only daughter on an errand about a horse."

"Yes, well, it is not as though I look like a Princess" Lothiriel pointed out, gesturing at her stained riding dress. "So I think you can be forgiven. And anyway, Father needs to learn that his notions of what is 'proper' is getting a little-old fashioned." The very unladylike face she pulled as she said this surprised a genuine laugh out of the man sat at her side.

And then the guard returned from the stable. "My Lord King" he called.

Eomer was instantly on his feet and made it to the door in three long strides. Lothiriel followed at a slower pace, anxious to hear the outcome.

Eothain turned at his King's approach. "It was a good thing the dart was seen" he said, his gravely voice easily reaching where Lothiriel stood in the shadow just inside the doorway. "He would have been in trouble if all of the poison had been released."

That was all that Lothiriel wanted to hear. Not wishing to intrude any longer, she slipped out of the doors, heading for home.

"Excuse me, miss?" one of the Rohirric guards called out in rough westron as she passed.

Lothiriel paused and turned.

"Thank you for saving Firefoot, my Lady" he said, colour rising to his cheeks, as he added: "May I ask your name?"

Lothiriel realised then how young the soldier was; he could certainly have been no older than her nineteen summers. "I am Lothiriel of Dol Amroth" she said. "I did only what I hope any other would have done, but I am glad Firefoot is well."

"Your name will be honoured amongst our kin" the other guard put in.

Lothiriel felt the colour rising to her cheeks at the fervent tone. "You have my thanks" she managed, dropping a slight curtsey as she left.

It was in a thoughtful mood that Lothiriel bathed and dressed for dinner that evening. Her maid's expression changed from concern to bordering on panic at Lothiriel's unusually distant mood. "Are you well, my Lady?" she asked as she brushed out her charge's long dark curls.

Lothiriel blinked, pulling herself together. "I am sorry, Hileth" she said, smiling up at the grey-haired maid. "I had a busy afternoon, helping at the stables."

Hileth shook her head. "You must try to behave with a little more decorum at Minas Tirith, my Lady" she said, a touch of reproach in her croaking voice.

"Yes, Hileth" Lothiriel said demurely, the sparkle in her grey eyes giving away her amusement at her old maid's scolding tone.

Hileth sighed. "I know it is no use telling you, my Lady. You were ever a wilful child. But we have little time now before dinner. You will be dining in the King's hall for the first time tonight, my Lady. What will you wear?"

Lothiriel sighed. "Nothing that makes me look of marriageable age?" she asked hopefully, adding: "I hate the crawling attentions I receive at this court. Do you remember Lord Kailien?"

Hileth barely repressed a shudder. "He was not the nicest of men, I will admit. Nevertheless, your Father has requested you to be suitably attired. You must just make sure Amrothos looks after you."

Lothiriel laughed out loud. "Hileth, you know as well as I do how much Amrothos loves strutting about in this court. I will not see him all evening. I suppose I will just have to stand demurely beside Father and have the headache as soon as soon as I can after dinner is over. Otherwise I will be forced to dance with all those slobbering unmarried Gondorian men."

"You forget our foreign guests" Hileth reminded her as she crossed to the wardrobe. "I have heard that they are not so barbaric as the stories would have us believe."

Lothiriel recalled a pair of worried dark eyes and suppressed a small smile. "Perhaps not" she said quietly.

Half an hour later saw Lothiriel descending the stairs slowly, dressed simply, but elegantly in a midnight blue gown, embroidered with silver thread. Her long hair was brushed until it shone, and fell loose down her back. Lothiriel had seen the dramatically coiffed and powdered courtiers of Gondor, and had swiftly decided that the look was not for her. Her Father was waiting for her, along with only two of her brothers, the eldest having remained at Dol Amroth with his wife and newborn son.

"Lothiriel, you make an old man proud" Imrahil said, kissing his only daughter on the cheek and holding an arm for her to take.

Lothiriel laughed as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. "Ada, you are not so old" she told him. "Why, I only see one or two grey hairs."

Imrahil frowned as his sons laughed. "Where?" he demanded.

"Peace, Ada, you are as handsome as ever" Lothiriel soothed him.

"Ada, it is time" Imrahil's second born, Erchirion, opened the door as he said this, standing back to let his Father go first.

"Now, my daughter, you remember what I told you?" Imrahil asked as they walked the short distance to the banquet hall.

Lothiriel nodded, knowing how worried her father was that she would do something un-ladylike when she made her first appearance at court in front of the new King. "Yes, Ada. I will not let you down" she reassured him.

They reached the banqueting hall, and joined the small queue of dignitaries waiting to make their bows to the new King and his soon-to-be Queen. Imrahil nodded greetings to those he knew as they waited.

Lothiriel was very aware of the eyes on her as she waited demurely beside her father. She had only been in Minas Tirith for two days, and aside for her ride earlier on that afternoon had not been out of the family home. Inwardly, she sighed. She felt she was in for a long night.

The time had come to make her curtsey. She felt the strength of the new King's handshake from her clasp on her father's other arm. As he enthusiastically greeted her father, Lothiriel risked a look up at the King of Gondor, marvelling at the sight of the stern-faced tall man, with such brightness in his eyes. Blinking as she heard her father introduce her, she let go of his arm and managed to curtsey just at the right time. She rose to see the King smiling down at her. "Welcome, Princess Lothiriel" he said, his deep voice melodious as it seemed to hold a touch of elvish lyricism. "May I present the Lady Arwen, who is soon to be Queen of Gondor?"

Lothiriel looked upon the elven lady for the first time and was shocked when Arwen stood, gracefully moving towards her. Quickly she curtseyed low, and stood to look in awe at the beauty of the fair being who smiled so kindly at her. "I would speak with you, after dinner" Arwen said, hear voice as beautiful as the most haunting elvish melody. She bent close to the Princess and whispered: "you seem as if you would be refreshingly different company from most of my courtiers."

Lothiriel grinned: she couldn't help it, and she saw that Arwen's eyes brimmed with amusement.

"As my Lady wishes" she replied, curtseying again and sharing another smile as she left, breathing a sigh of relief that she had not said or done anything to horrify her staid father.

Making her way across towards the top table beside her father, she stopped as a tall man stepped in front of them and took her father's arm in a warriors embrace.

"Imrahil" a deep voice said; one that Lothiriel instantly recognised and she looked up to meet dark eyes, that had darted quickly to meet hers, a smile flaring within their depths.

She felt the colour rising to her cheeks, but smiled back.

"I come to offer my thanks to your daughter. Her quick actions today saved me from losing my horse to a terrible poison."

Imrahil looked quickly at Lothiriel. "You did not mention this" he said, surprised.

"I didn't do much, I just found a dart in his foreleg" Lothiriel explained quickly, hoping that being that involved with a horse that was not her own would not count in her father's view as 'improper'.

"My men are already speaking your name with awe, my Lady" Eomer's deep voice was surprisingly gentle. "Most would not venture anywhere near my excessively bad-mannered horse. They think you quite the bravest woman in Gondor."

"But I did not know of poor Firefoot's ill manners, my Lord, so I was not so brave" Lothiriel told him, trying to keep the smile from her face.

"Nevertheless, my lady, you have my thanks" Eomer said. "Perhaps you will save me a dance tonight?"

"Perhaps, my Lord" Lothiriel replied, slightly shocked by the daring of her response.

The King of Rohan, however, merely shot her a grin and bowed, before moving to his seat.

"You did not tell me you had met Eomer King" Imrahil said as he pulled out his daughter's chair at their table.

"I did not know I had, at first" Lothiriel admitted. "I am glad Firefoot is well. He had been shot by a poisoned dart, Ada" she added, frowning. "Lord Eomer had ridden out of the city. Perhaps the King should be informed."

Imrahil's face was grave. "I shall speak with Elessar" he told her. "But, for tonight, my daughter, we may think of pleasure. We are safe within the walls of the white city."

Dinner passed without incident. Lothiriel's healthy appetite was sated and she picked at the sweetmeats, content to listen to the conversation that was flowing around her as she found herself curiously distracted by the smile that had shone in a pair of fine dark eyes.

Before long, the lower tables were cleared, and the time had come for the dancing to begin. With a wave of dread, Lothiriel spotted a young, acne-spotted, courtier of Gondor, who had spent the evening trying to catch her eye, oiling his way over to her.

At that moment, Lothiriel caught sight of a flash of golden hair as a slender figure darted in front of her and bowed over her hand. "I beg leave to introduce myself, my Lady" a soft, musical voice with a laughing edge to it came from a slender elf that Lothiriel had heard of only through tales. "I am Legolas, friend to the King. The Lady Arwen has bid me invite you to her table shortly. I must confess I am a little early in my errand, but I could not bear the thought of that unusual-looking youth spoiling your dress with his surprisingly oily skin. Perhaps you would grant me this dance for providing you such a service?"

Lothiriel looked into clear blue eyes sparkling with merriment coupled with a bright smile and could not help but laugh. "My Lord, it is the least I can do to repay you" she told him. One quick glance at her father gained her permission and she placed her hand upon Legolas' ready arm.

"I confess, it was not just the thought of your fine dress being spoiled that brought me to your side, my Lady" Legolas confessed as they took their places in the set. "Arwen told me you were an unrivalled beauty, and I wanted to see for myself. She was not wrong and I am glad, for I heard that all ladies of Gondor have taken to wearing powder, and have to started to assume the most extraordinary manners. I am glad to find that I was misinformed."

Lothiriel, quite at a loss to know what to respond to such unusual flattery, faltered in her dance step, and was caught quickly by a surprisingly strong, slender arm.

"I apologise, my Lady" Legolas said, suddenly serious. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I heard you saved Eomer King's horse from a poisoned dart?"

The abrupt change in conversation made Lothiriel blink. "I did not realise it would bring such excitement" she said honestly.

The smile was back in Legolas' bright eyes. "Ahh, but you have not known the horse or his master for long" he said. "They are both renowned for the shortness of their temper. We are all just surprised that one or the other did not bite you."

Lothiriel felt the laughter bubbling up inside her as she imagined the King of Rohan attempting to wrap his teeth around her arm. One look at Legolas made her sure that he knew what she was thinking, as he broke out into light laughter. "I will be careful to avoid their teeth" she promised, as the dance ended. She curtseyed and Legolas gave her an elven bow, bringing his hand to his chest and sweeping it away.

"I thank you for coming to rescue me" Lothiriel said, as Legolas steered her out of the press of couples on the dance floor, heading toward Arwen's table. "I was not looking forward to tonight. All the most unsavoury characters presume to ask for a dance whenever I am at court. It was a relief to dance with someone who did not step on my feet."

"I will do all in my power to ensure the continued health of your toes" Legolas promised her merrily as they stepped up to the King's table.

The look of amusement on Arwen's face as Lothiriel looked up to her made her realise quite how good elven hearing was.

"I leave you in safe hands, my Lady" Legolas said, bowing and placing the lightest of kisses on Lothiriel's hand and granting her one last sweet smile before he disappeared off into the crowd.

Lothiriel turned and curtseyed to the Elven Lady sat in front of her.

"There is no need, Lothiriel" Arwen told her earnestly, gesturing to the chair beside her. "With all the words your brothers and father have spoken of you, I feel I know you already. You seem to have found an admirer in my elven friend."

Lothiriel blushed. "He said he only danced with me to protect me from Lord Asrai" she said.

Arwen raised an eyebrow, but only smiled. "So, how does court life now compare to how it was before?" she asked.

Lothiriel thought for a moment. "The atmosphere is much less oppressive, but the women have become more keen to find a suitable husband" she said, the honest remark springing from her lips before she could stop it.

"So I have heard" Arwen said, seemingly unaffected by the princess' unguarded comment. "I think some of Estel's friends are quite alarmed by the traps that have been set to catch them. I hear your father is thinking of finding a suitable match for you."

Lothiriel groaned and smiled wryly. "Please don't remind him; he seems to have forgotten about it for today. Although, I am less concerned with moving to Minas Tirith than I was before the war, should a match be made. I am glad, however, for my poor cousin Faramir that Lady Eowyn has captured his heart, for my father had hoped my betrothal to Boromir would pass to him."

"You were betrothed to Boromir?" Arwen said, surprised. "I am sorry; I did not know."

"It would not have been formally announced until I came of age" Lothiriel said. "It was arranged when I was in my cradle. I never really knew Boromir. By the time I was old enough to travel here, he was training in the army. Faramir was always very kind to me, though. I am glad he is so happy; he deserves to be."

"I think you are to be stolen away from me" Arwen said suddenly, her head lifting as if listening to something. "Do return if you are able; there is only so much simpering attention I can cope with in one day."

As she finished speaking, Lothiriel heard the lilting tones of the new King, and then an unmistakeable deep voice speak a reply. She looked up into the increasingly familiar darkest brown eyes and then away as Aragorn spoke.

"My Lady Lothiriel, may I present Eomer King as a worthy dance partner?" His stern features were lifted in a smile, his eyes sparkling.

"How can I refuse my King?" Lothiriel teased gently as she rose from her seat. She curtseyed to Aragorn and then turned, greeting Eomer with a demure smile, holding her hand out to him.

In a surprisingly graceful movement for one so large, Eomer bent and kissed her slim fingers, before leading her down to the dance floor. "Why do you think I asked Aragorn for his assistance?" he said as they walked. "I had to be sure I managed at least one dance with you. The damned elf already beat me to it once. I would not have it happen again."

It was not until the dance began that Lothiriel took her first proper look at Eomer, King of Rohan. She herself was not short, but he was far taller than she, and powerfully built. His long blond hair was loose and fell in soft waves about his tanned face. His dark eyes caught hers and she felt unable to look away, finding herself drawn into their stormy depths.

And then he blinked, bringing Lothiriel back into the moment with a start.

"You disappeared earlier" Eomer said. He spoke softly, but his deep voice easily cut through all the noise in the large hall. "I was sorry I did not have the chance to thank you."

"There was no need" Lothiriel assured him. "I could not leave an animal in pain."

"To be honest, I was surprised Firefoot let you near him" Eomer told her. "He does not always have the sweetest temperament."

Lothriel, thinking of Legolas' words earlier, laughed before she could stop herself. She peeked up to see Eomer's quizzical look. "Prince Legolas mentioned that to me" she explained, evasively.

Eomer's eyes narrowed. "Those were his words?" he demanded.

Lothiriel squirmed under his piercing gaze. "Do not be angry with him, my Lord, but he said he was surprised that you or your horse did not attempt to bite me, given the shortness of your tempers" she confessed, biting her lip to keep from laughing on the outrage that flashed across the other's face.

His grip tightened for the merest fraction of a second. "He did, did he?" he said, his voice forcibly calm. "He was jesting, my Lord, I am sure" Lothiriel said quickly, hoping to calm him and that she had not caused Legolas any trouble.

"Do not defend him, my Lady" Eomer said, his good humour beginning to return. "I assure you that Legolas is well able to defend himself; at least he thinks he is. The first time we met he threatened to shoot me, with my fully armed Eored surrounding him."

"I think, perhaps, one so immune to fear needs no defence" Lothiriel mused. "Perhaps he was dropped on his golden head as an Elfling to have been afflicted so." She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror as she realised what he said, but her partner laughed heartily, causing the heads of those nearest them to turn.

"I will be sure to ask him when we next meet" Eomer promised, as the dance ended. Again, he bowed gracefully and placed a light kiss on her hand, his neatly trimmed beard tickling her fingers delightfully. "Will you walk with me on the terrace, Princess?" he asked.

"I would be honoured, my Lord King" Lothiriel replied, taking his offered arm and allowing him to steer her expertly through the crowd. The air was not yet too cool, and she took a deep breath in relief as they reached the terrace.

Eomer was watching her, apparently amused. "You do not favour such gatherings, my Lady?" he asked her, inclining his head in response to a smattering of bows and curtseys in his direction as they approached the rail of the terrace, to look down over the city to the Pelennor beyond.

"Usually I avoid court life at all costs" Lothiriel confessed. "I find being my father's daughter a trial at these times. It seems there are many who are far too keen for marriage to royalty."

"I can say without any shred of doubt that I know precisely how you feel" Eomer told her, grinning. "I find all the bowing and being called 'my lord king' bad enough, but it seems that even a Barbarian King from the North has become an eligible match these days."

"And so you have all the fortune-hunters and glory seekers at your door" Lothiriel realised. "You have my sympathy, my Lord."

Eomer winced at the use of the title. "Can I ask you a favour, my Lady?" he asked, leaning against the rail and turning to face her.

Lothiriel looked up into his dark eyes. "Of course" she said.

"Can we dispense with titles, just between us? I know it is not done, in Gondor, but I'm starting to feel like I'm just a very tall stand for a crown, right now. I need some help to keep me sane."

Lothiriel was kept from laughter by the pleading look in that intense gaze. "Of course, Eomer" she said, feeling pleasure at the way the lyrical Rohirric syllables tumbled across her tongue. "After all, we are to be kin when your sister marries my cousin."

"Hush!" Eomer said, "I have not officially agreed to that yet. Aragorn will be upset if we spoil his upcoming celebrations mentioning another wedding." He grinned. "Besides, I may not agree to it. It will be difficult to manage without Eowyn in Edoras."

"I think you must take care who you say that to" Lothiriel told him. "Or you will find yourself tripping over all the unmarried women of Gondor."

Eomer grimaced. "I must count on you to help me escape their clutches. Perhaps you may join me for a visit tomorrow. I go to my sister, for she is not quite well enough yet to leave the healing houses. Your cousin will no doubt be there also."

"I would like that" Lothiriel said, smiling warmly. "I have not seen Faramir for a long time. He was always kind to me when we were younger; it would be good to see him again."

"Do not be surprised if he does not hear a word that you say" Eomer warned. "I fear he loses much of his good sense when my sister is near."

Lothiriel laughed at the thought of her quiet, studious cousin staring vacantly at a blonde woman, ignoring all else around him. "I will take that chance" she said. "Any opportunity to get away from the fawning attentions of Gondor's courtiers will be most welcome."

Eomer grinned. "If you ever need assistance, just look my way Lothiriel. I will be only too willing to step in. It's strange, but these young men of Gondor seem to go pale when I approach them."

Taking in his tall, broad form, Lothiriel could understand why.

"Lothiriel"

The deep voice seemed to caress her name. Lothiriel suddenly struggled to meet his eyes. "Yes, Eomer?"

"There you are, Thiri." The voice made Lothiriel blink. She turned to see the youngest of her brothers.

"Yes, Amrothos?" Lothiriel asked, wondering at the disappointment she felt that her conversation with Eomer was to be at an end.

"Father was asking after you. I walked past at the wrong time, so have been sent to deliver you to him." As he put his arm out for her, he continued. "It's really Legolas' fault. You're the only one he's danced with all night. Father's terrified that the elf has taken a fancy to you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Rothos" Lothiriel said. Turning to Eomer, a pleading look in her eyes, she said: "perhaps my Lord Eomer may be trusted to deliver me safely to Ada. You may get back to your ale and your courtiers."

Amrothos pretended to consider that for a moment. Finally he nodded. "Tell Ada I did my duty?"

"Of course" Lothiriel promised.

Amrothos sketched a bow to Eomer with a grin. "Failure to return my sister may be seen as an act of war, my Lord" he said.

"Fear not, Amrothos. Your sister has become most revered by the Rohirrim, did you not know? I swear to protect her."

Amrothos' quizzical gaze stared after them as Eomer deftly steered Lothiriel into the crowd.

"Poor Rothos" Lothiriel mused. "You know he has no idea what you were talking about."

Eomer shrugged. "I'm sure he will survive" he told her. "I will see you tomorrow? I will be at the healing houses by noon."

"I will be there" Lothiriel promised, wondering at the heat that lightly tinged her cheeks as she spoke.

They had arrived at her father's side and so she did not have the time to think it over before Eomer bent to kiss her fingers once more. "Until tomorrow" he whispered, his dark eyes flashing that same secret smile as he rose and nodded to her father, before being lost once more to the crowd.

"Are you ready to leave, daughter?" Imrahil asked her, his brow furrowed as he studied her. "You are flushed, Lothiriel. Do you feel well?"

Lothiriel smiled up at him. "I am a little tired, Ada" she said. "It has been a long day, so soon after arriving here from home." Knowing her father to be convinced of the frailty of women, she knew her excuse would be accepted without question. As she was expecting, Imrahil took her arm and made their excuses to be leaving.

Before long, they were back in their Minas Tirith home. Lothiriel slipped away up to her bedchamber as soon as she could, glad that her father had not questioned her appearance on the arm of the King of Rohan. Resolutely pushing all thoughts of those haunting dark eyes out of her mind, Lothiriel was soon asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning was bright and sunny as Lothiriel sat up in bed with her morning tea. As she drank, she allowed herself to consider the happenings of the previous night. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered Legolas' teasing conversation. She shook her head at Amrothos' declaration; that her father worried about the Elf Prince's intention towards her. She knew that he would never be likely to be swayed by any mortal, no matter how supposedly beautiful. And then, her thoughts strayed to the only other she had shared a dance with; Eomer. She could not deny how handsome the young king was, and that intense dark gaze made her shiver with pleasure whenever it rested on her. But it was more than that; she was intrigued by his shunning of his formal title and wondered what had brought that about. She knew she could not ask anyone about Rohan's new King without having to explain why she wished to know. But she found herself keen to learn more about him, sensing that he, too, was not quite at ease within these high white walls.

Once she was dressed and had completed her morning tasks, Lothiriel found herself with a little time to spare before her promised meeting at the healing houses. Her father had given permission readily for her to visit Faramir. She had not felt in necessary to mention the other who would be visiting the houses at the same time as her. She was determined not to allow her Father to ruin her new acquaintance by dreaming up another marriage contract. Slipping out of the house, Lothiriel decided to pay a visit to another patient; the grey war horse she had helped the day before.

The stables were quiet at this time; most preferring to ride out on pre-planned afternoon excursions and so Lothiriel found herself quite alone. After a brief visit with her own horse, to treat the mare with some pieces of apple, Lothiriel walked back along to Firefoot. The stallion nickered at her approach, two slow steps bringing him up to the door of his stall.

"How are you today, my friend?" Lothriel asked softly, rubbing the horse's velvety nose.

Firefoot snorted, nibbling at her hand with his velvety lips, as if hoping for a treat.

Lothiriel laughed, but did not hand out any of her goodies. "I do not know if you are quite well" she apologised. "I would not want to slow your treatment by feeding you something that is not in your diet."

"It'll take more than a slice of apple to harm that great brute" a deep voice called, from the entrance to the stables.

Firefoot neighed a greeting as the tall man strode forward and laid a big hand on his muscled neck. "Good morning, Lothiriel" he said, treating her to a soft smile. "I didn't expect to find you here." His eyes spoke of his approval that she would think of visiting a sick horse.

"I just wanted to see how Firefoot fared" Lothiriel explained, reaching into her feed bag as the stallion pushed his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughingly pushed him away and fed him the rest of the apple she had brought with her, which was received with much snuffling and pleased snorting by the warhorse. In seconds it was gone and Firefoot pushed his nose at Lothiriel, looking for more. Dwarfed by the huge stallion, Lothiriel found herself nudged back several paces by the power of his snuffling entreaty for more.

"That's enough" Eomer said sternly, causing Firefoot to stop what he was doing and take a slow step back in his stall. "It will not do to behave so to a Lady" the King reprimanded his horse sternly, causing the beast to duck his head as if in apology.

Lothiriel, marvelling at the obvious close relationship between man and beast, could not help laughing at Firefoot's reaction to the tone of the King of Rohan's voice.

Eomer turned at the sound, grinning. "It seems as if you have nothing to worry about with Firefoot" he told her, "except perhaps you will have to bathe far more frequently if you happen to meet him. I hope he did not mark your dress with his antics?"

Lothiriel shook her head. "Not that it matters in the least, but both I and my dress are perfectly fine." She put her empty feed bag down in a pile of similar sacks and brushed a few hairs from her sleeves. Looking up, she found that Eomer was watching her. Feeling unaccountably warm having found his dark eyes on her, she raised one eyebrow at him, which caused him to drop his gaze and turn quickly back to his horse for one last pat of the long neck.

"Shall we go to the Healing Houses?" he asked, after a long moment of silence. He smiled then, and the slight awkwardness fell away.

Lothiriel smiled back and took his proffered arm, following his lead through the busy streets of the upper level of the city. They fell into easy conversation and were at the doors in no time. They were greeted by one of the healers, who just said good morning, before leaving them to it. It seemed as though Eomer was here to check on his sister fairly often. He led Lothiriel through the corridors out into a small walled garden with a view out over the Pelennor. After a moment, Lothiriel spotted a slim, pale woman with long blond hair standing at the wall looking out at the view, but it was the slender, dark-haired man at the woman's side that brought a smile to the princess' face.

"Faramir!" she cried, happy to see her kind cousin looking so calm and content with his lot, for the first time since she had known him.

The pair turned and her cousin broke into a wide smile, crossing the short distance between them with an easy stride.

"Cousin!" Faramir responded, embracing her. "It is wonderful to see you. How much you have changed these past couple of years."

"I am glad to find you well" Lothiriel replied. "I know you were wounded gravely, cousin, but it seems I find you in better health than I have ever seen you."

Faramir coloured slightly at her words, knowing what she referred to, and turned to the woman at his side. "Let me introduce to you the Lady Eowyn, who I hope to make my wife."

Lothiriel curtseyed to the blond woman, who responded in kind, a smile on her pale face. "I am sure there can be no opposition to your match" Lothiriel told them, sneaking a look up at Eomer as she said this. "Although it has been said that Rohan's King does not have the sweetest of temperaments, so perhaps you should watch your step my cousin."

Eowyn laughed with Lothiriel at the look on her brother's face. She stepped forward and, taking Lothiriel by the arm, walked away from the men. "I knew I would like you" she said, as they left the others behind. "Faramir spoke highly of you, and Arwen said you were not like most of the Gondorian ladies. But tell me, how have you become acquainted with my brother? He is not usually one to notice the existence of women."

Lothiriel, feeling unaccountably warmed by the last remark, smiled. "I risked the wrath of his horse to remove a poisoned dart from his foreleg. Now it seems that your brother is anxious to repay the debt he apparently feels he owes me. And so you find that we have become friends."

Eowyn, while obviously shocked that Firefoot had been hurt, was equally curious about Lothiriel and Eomer's budding friendship. But her questions went unspoken as the men caught up to them.

The afternoon passed all too quickly. After a light lunch, the four sat at a wooden table in the garden of the healing houses, sharing stories from their childhood. Lothiriel was content mostly to listen, watching with a smile as Eowyn and her brother teased one another with affection. Knowing that they had only really had each other for most of their lives, Lothiriel realised all too clearly why Eomer had mentioned not allowing Eowyn to marry. It saddened her to think that before to long, Eomer would be alone in Edoras, the last of his family having left him behind to start a new life in Ithilien.

Lothiriel was interrupted from her thoughts by a gentle hand touching her arm. She blinked and then blushed as the others chuckled. "You were always a dreamer" Faramir remarked, smiling at her to take any sting out of his words. "You have missed an argument, my cousin. These two warriors of the Riddermark claim that their skill with weapons cannot be bested. I do not doubt their prowess with a blade, but as we are in Gondor, we should play by my rules. What say you to an archery contest tomorrow?"

Lothiriel's smile betrayed her pleasure at such a suggestion. She had only been taught how to shoot by an exasperated Amrothos, when she refused to stop asking. She had been surprised to find that she was quite good, although she did not always shoot as well as she would like. "I think that is an excellent suggestion" she agreed. "Do you both feel well enough to take part?" she asked, suddenly remembering where they were.

Eowyn rolled her eyes. "I am only here because I have been ordered to remain" she said. "Although, in truth, it has been a haven from the painted gossip-mongers of the court. It will do me good to get out into the world for a little while."

"Then it is settled" Faramir said, his usually solemn eyes gleaming.

The sun was low in the sky when Lothiriel rose to leave. "I will have to go" she said. "Father will be starting to worry. I only have a couple of hours left this afternoon to turn myself into someone suitable to go out into society. He never thinks that will be enough."

"Sometimes I miss the Golden Hall" Eowyn remarked. "Uncle never minded if I came to dinner with bare feet, or in riding dress." Her sad smile made Lothiriel instinctively glance up at Eomer, who had also risen. She saw that same ache of loss echoed in his expressive dark eyes.

Blinking, he seemed to snap himself out of his dark thoughts, for the smile he turned on the others was warm. "I take it you two are still hiding from these hellish events?" he asked them, grinning as Eowyn blushed. "In that case we shall meet here at mid-morning tomorrow. I rely on you to protect my sister, Faramir."

The steward grinned as Eowyn scowled. "I would not dare try, my Lord" he replied laughingly.

Lothiriel left on Eomer's arm, happier than she had been for a long time as she had finally seen for herself how much improved her cousin was. "They make a wonderful couple" she said, noting the sadness of Eomer's smile as he looked down at her.

"I know" he admitted. "And they will be married before too long, despite what I tell her. It will just be so difficult to manage without her to run the household. I already feel like I'm being pulled at least four ways at any one time." He stopped abruptly, ran a big hand through his long blond hair and sighed. "I'm sorry, Lothiriel" he said. "I forget myself."

"Don't apologise" Lothiriel told him earnestly. "Please be yourself with me; you need not worry that you must keep such thoughts unspoken. It will do you no good if you confide such things to no-one." It was her turn for her smile to turn a little sad. "I remember what it was like when mother passed. None of my brothers were married, and so I was the only woman in the household, although I was only fourteen. I had to learn very fast what it took to keep the palace at Dol Amroth from grinding to a halt. I know it cannot be compared to coping with a country which has lost so much, but it is the only comparison I have from what I have experienced. You cannot and will not be expected to be able to mend everything at once, Eomer, but your people know that and you will help each other through these hard times."

After a moment, Eomer nodded and his eyes lost a little of their dark brooding. "Thank you, Lothiriel" he said, closing one hand briefly over hers and giving her a gentle smile. "You are a treasure" he told her, making her blush. Noticing this, Eomer's smile grew until Lothiriel had to return it.

"You won't be saying that tomorrow, when you lose the archery contest" she told him lightly, fighting to regain her composure. She was sure she had not blushed so much in all her life as she had the last two days.

Eomer raised an eyebrow. "So confident, are you, that you shall win?" he asked. "Perhaps we should have a wager?"

"I must confess I am tempted" Lothiriel replied, resuming their walk. "What should be the stakes?"

Falling into step beside her, Eomer considered this. "If I win, you must present me some of your father's best wine" he said.

"That is no small prize" Lothiriel told him laughingly. "Ada's wine-making is a closely guarded secret. He greatly values his best wine; it will take much persuasion for him to part with even one drop. And if I win?"

"What would you suggest?" Eomer asked her, his dark eyes sparkling.

Lothiriel put her head on one side as she thought. "I have heard that the wood-carving of your country is some of the best in all of the West" she said. "I would like a piece for my own."

"It is a deal" Eomer promised, pausing as they reached the gates of Prince Imrahil's lodging. Shooting a quick look up at the house, he turned his dark eyes back down to her. "I will see you at dinner" he said. "Perhaps you will grant me a dance this evening without a royal command from Aragorn?"

"I will think on it and inform you tonight" Lothiriel told him, laughing as Eomer's dark eyes flashed.

"How kind you are" Eomer said dryly. In that same graceful move from before, he bent and lightly kissed her fingers. Looking at her as he straightened, their was something in his dark eyes that Lothiriel could not quite read. Before she could contemplate what it might mean, Eomer had gone.

So it was that Lothiriel was again in a distracted mood as she prepared for dinner. Hileth shook her head at her in exasperation when she failed to respond to her questions.

"I am sorry" Lothiriel said, shaking her head to clear her confused thoughts. "What did you say?"

"Which dress would you wear tonight, my Lady?" Hileth repeated, well used to Lothiriel's dreaming tendencies. She had laid out several new gowns, all of which had been chosen, much to Lothiriel's dismay, by her maiden aunt who lived in Minas Tirith and had clearly been much taken by the latest fashion for powder and frippery.

"Do I still have the white dress with the green trim?" Lothiriel asked hopefully.

Hileth sighed. "Yes, my Lady, but…"

"I shall wear that" Lothiriel replied firmly, not letting the maid finish.

Sighing again, Hileth complied and pulled the dress out of the closet. It was beautiful, the maid had to admit, but it seemed a shame that the Princess would be outdone by the lesser courtiers with their brightly coloured silks and satins.

"The Lady Arwen seems to dress in such a pleasingly simple style, wouldn't you agree, Hileth?" Lothiriel asked her maid, knowing this would soften the older woman's mood. Predictably, Hileth brightened. "Perhaps, my Lady, in dressing simply, you and the Lady Arwen will stand out in the crowd" she said, pleased by the idea.

Lothiriel smiled, glad that her old friend could be so easily cheered up. It was not long before she was dressed; her only additions to the dress being a string of pearls that had belonged to her mother, and several small white flowers threaded into her long dark hair.

She met her father at the foot of the stairs and was pleased that he did not find fault with her simple attire. Again, the family walked to the banqueting hall together and took their places on the left side of the King. Lothiriel's eyes instinctively searched out Eomer as she walked to her place, and felt a surge of happiness as he met her gaze with a smile.

Lothiriel found herself enjoying the dinner more than she had the had the previous night; right up until her father turned to speak to her.

"I have been thinking, daughter" he said, the serious look in his eyes making Lothiriel's heart sink. "You have grown into a beautiful woman. Perhaps some thought should be given about a suitable match being made for you again. I have not spoken of it for some time, for I wanted you to have time to recover from the sad news of Boromir's passing. I had hoped for Faramir to accept the marriage suit that had originally been meant for his brother, but I hear that my nephew has planned to offer for Eowyn of Rohan. Perhaps I may introduce to a young man this eve? His father is a business partner and a good friend of mine, and I hear his son is a worthy man."

Lothiriel felt her good mood instantly evaporate, but she knew she would not be able to go against the wishes of her staid father. "As you wish" she muttered, toying with her wine goblet. Suddenly, she did not feel that she wanted to eat any more.

As the lower tables were cleared away for the dancing to begin, Prince Imrahil rose, with a meaningful look at his daughter.

Amrothos, who had overheard the earlier conversation, gave Lothiriel a sympathetic look. "I'll rescue you if I can" he whispered in her ear as she passed.

Lothiriel tried to smile her thanks as she walked dutifully beside her father to a corner of the large room.

There stood a portly, red-faced man with thinning grey hair. But his smile was kind as he made his bow to Lothiriel. He stepped aside to reveal his son, a thin dark-haired man, with a sour expression on his pale face. The younger man, introduced by his proud father as Ekilion, bowed over her hand with a flourish.

"Perhaps I may have this dance, my Lady Princess" he drawled, giving her a smile that bordered on a leer.

Repressing a shudder, Lothiriel gave him her most icily polite smile, and placed her hand on his thin arm as lightly as she could.

Leading her down to join the dance, Lothiriel could almost seeing him puffing up his chest, clearly convinced that he had as good as won his prize. The touch of his cold, clammy hand on hers made her sick to her stomach, but she went through the motions of the dance, responding to his conversation politely, as convention dictated, but not introducing a topic of her own.

The dance ended eventually and Ekilion took her back to where her father was still standing, conversing quietly with his.

"You look a little pale, daughter. You are quite well?" Imrahil asked her as she was returned to his side.

"Perhaps I might persuade Lady Lothiriel to take a turn with me about the garden? Doubtless the heat in here is a little too much for such a genteel lady" Ekilion suggested, looking thrilled that he had been able to ask.

"I'm sure that is an excellent idea" Imrahil agreed, before Lothiriel could so much as cast him an imploring look.

Sighing, Lothiriel had no choice but to agree. She allowed Ekilion to draw her through the crowds and suddenly realised that, rather than going out onto the terrace, he drew her out of one of the smaller exits from the hall into a walled garden.

"I am sure you know why your father brought you to me" Ekilion began, as soon as they were alone.

Lothiriel cast a quick look round and was made nervous when she could not see anyone else in the garden. "I believe you are the first of the possible suitors he has lined up to introduce me to" she replied, a slight edge to her voice.

Ekilion surprised her by chuckling. "Oh no, my Lady princess, you do not quite have that right. I am the only suitor he has lined up to ask for your hand. He and my father are signing trade agreements. I am sure that our union will ensure no interruptions to those fine contracts."

Lothiriel froze. Sold to the highest bidder? That did not sound like her father, did it? But then she thought back to the awkwardness she had felt from him when he had brought the subject up. Perhaps there was more to this than she had thought. "Has an agreement been reached between your father and mine?" she asked bluntly.

"You are promised to me; I thought you knew?" Ekilion told her, turning so that he faced her. "Do not be angry, Princess. I am quite eligible, I assure you." As he spoke, he took a slow pace closer to her, not able to restrain a laugh as she took a step back.

"You are very sure of yourself" Lothiriel managed, fighting down the rising panic she felt as she looked around her again. The garden was still deserted.

"Well, yes" Ekilion said, apparently still amused as he closed the gap between them again, keeping pace with Lothiriel's backward steps until, with a gasp bordering on horror, the Princess found herself with her back to the wall of the hall.

"I see I will have to teach you to respect me a little more, when we are wed" Ekilion told her, his hands resting on the wall either side of her, trapping her where she stood.

Incensed, Lothiriel reached up and slapped him hard about the face. Instead of moving, the man snarled, snatching her hand out of the air and slamming it none too gently back onto the wall.

"I think I need to teach you some manners, woman" he hissed angrily. Twisting her hands behind her back, he pulled her body against his, and forced his lips fiercely against hers.

Lothiriel bit hard at his lips, feeling grim satisfaction as Ekilion swore. Pulling one of his hands free, he slapped her cheek. "Wench!" he shouted, lifting his hand to strike again.

The hit did not find his mark as he was torn roughly away from the Princess and hurled unceremoniously across the garden. A huge man loomed in the shadows, moving with surprising speed as he rounded on Ekilion, who was sprawled upon the ground.

Lothiriel watched in horrified fascination as her rescuer's fist descended with deadly speed.

"Eomer!" another shape darted past Lothiriel, a flash of gold the only clue to his identity other than the quickness of his movement. Legolas reached the incensed King as his big arm raised for another blow, caught the fist in both of his deceptively strong hands and pulled it away from the quivering heap on the floor. "See to Princess Lothiriel" that light voice said, a hint of steel creeping in as he added: 'I'll take care of this."

And then Lothiriel realised she was shaking, her face was sore and she would have collapsed if a pair of strong arms had not caught her.

"You are safe, Lothiriel" the familiar deep voice, rough with now-fading anger and worry did much to soothe her shattered nerves.

"Eomer" she breathed in relief, clutching at his chest as her legs wobbled again.

Noticing this, Eomer drew her through a gate in the stone wall of the garden to a stone bench which sat in shadow at the very edge of the terrace. "Did he hurt you?" he asked her quickly.

Lothiriel put a hand reflexively to her aching cheek at his words, still struggling to breathe normally.

Eomer's brow darkened and he reached a gentle hand up to hers. "May I?" he asked softly, seeing the fear in her eyes as his hand moved towards her.

After a moment, Lothiriel nodded, allowing him to take her hand, and examine her cheek.

Eomer's breath caught as a hiss as he saw the bruise already blooming across her lightly tanned skin. His eyes darkened. "The swine" he muttered angrily; his frown deepening as he saw her lips were cut as well. "Lothiriel, please allow me to go back there and run him through."

Sorely tempted for one moment, Lothiriel shook her head. "I'd rather you did not leave me alone" she said.

Immediately, Eomer relented. "As you wish, my Lady" he said. "Then I think I better get you home." He looked up and within a moment had brought one of his guards over with a quick signal. "Kindly find Prince Imrahil. Inform him that Lady Lothiriel has come over faint, and that she has been escorted home."

The soldier nodded and swiftly disappeared into the banqueting hall.

"Is there a back way out of here?" Eomer asked, as Lothiriel eyed the way back through the hall warily.

Immediately, Lothiriel brightened. "There's a staircase at the end of this wall that leads to a small path. It will most likely not be lit, but we should be able to pass that way unseen."

Eomer nodded. "Can you walk?" he asked, standing and holding a hand out to her.

"I am recovered now" Lothiriel told him, accepting the hand gratefully as she rose. "I wager I feel a lot less bruised than Ekilion does right now."

Eomer's face was grim. "I wish I could have found you sooner" he said. "When I saw you dancing with that man I could tell you were not happy. But then you had disappeared. It took several minutes before Legolas discovered where he had taken you. I am sorry you had to suffer this."

Lothiriel looked up at him in some bemusement. "You are not actually blaming yourself, are you?" she demanded, surprising a sheepish grin out of her escort. "Eomer, you are impossible!"

Eomer laughed. "You sound like Eowyn" she told her, before his expression suddenly twisted, becoming inquisitive. "If you don't mind me asking, why were you with that man anyway?"

Lothiriel sighed. "Ada, it seems, has used me as a bargaining chip in a trade agreement. I was to be 'that man's' bride when the other deals were signed." She frowned as she felt Eomer's arm muscles tense under her fingers.

"Well, I think Imrahil may be re-thinking those deals very shortly" Eomer told her, a grim edge creeping into his tone as they passed the first lights of Imrahil's gate and their soft glow highlighted the growing bruise on Lothiriel's cheek.

Eomer escorted her through the gate and up to the front door. "May I come by tomorrow and see how you fare?" he asked her. "I would not have my one sane acquaintance kept away from me for long."

Lothiriel managed a smile although her bruised cheek was now throbbing dully.

"I will not keep you" Eomer said quickly, seeing her wince. Leaning down, he surprised Lothiriel by pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, before turning and leaving without another word.

It was in a daze that Lothiriel was met by her horrified maid. She allowed the older woman to fuss around her, bathing her cheek and applying a salve, before brushing out her long hair and dressing her for bed, pulling the covers up around her before fussing round the room to tidy it.

It was then that a tap on the door announced her father's return. Imrahil's face was grave as he approached his daughter's bed. There was a suspicion of a tear in his grey eyes as he looked down at her, taking in the sight of her bruised cheek and lips. "My daughter, I am sorry" he said gently, kneeling at the side of her low bed and taking her hand.

Lothiriel was suitably recovered by now to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Ada, must all the good men I know apologise for this man's behaviour? You did not know of his intent when you agreed to allowing him to walk with me. I assume he will be punished accordingly, and that is the end of the matter."

Imrahil passed a hand across his forehead. "I did not think you would be so cool" he admitted, a touch of respect for his strong daughter shining now in his eyes.

"I was not, at first" Lothriel told him softly. "But I was well looked after by my friends. In fact, between Eomer and Prince Legolas, I would almost be inclined to feel sorry for Ekilion. Almost."

Imrahil nodded, but remained frowning. "The man shall be dealt with. Would you like him to apologise you before he is removed from court?"

Lothiriel shrugged. "I do not know, Ada. I might feel then that I would have to accept the apology, and I do not want to. Honestly, I would rather forget the whole thing. I am glad that I was found before anything worse happened." She shivered as she spoke, recalling for a moment the disgusting feel of that man's lips crushing her own. Steeling herself once more, she felt able to meet her father's gaze without breaking down into tears.

Imrahil nodded sadly and stood up. "You should rest" he told her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Would you like Hileth to stay with you?"

Lothiriel shook her head. "I am so tired from all of this. I really do think I will be asleep before you leave the room."

Imrahil nodded again. "Good night, my daughter" he said, slipping out of the room.

Lothiriel did in fact feel tired. As she lay back on her pillows, she felt a wave of weariness overcome her. It was not long before she was fast asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning Lothiriel awoke feeling remarkably refreshed. In the light of day, the trouble of last night seemed to fade as if it had only been a bad dream. All she could remember clearly was the look in those expressive dark eyes. She rose and dressed quickly, slipping downstairs to breakfast. Only Amrothos was at the table. He looked up at her and swore.

"Good morning, Rothos" Lothiriel replied with a smile.

"Thiri, if that man were still here I would take off his head" Amrothos growled as he stared at her cheek, his grey eyes stormy.

Lothiriel gently touched his shoulder as she passed on the way to her seat. "Thank you, but I would rather you did not kill any man in these times of peace. Besides" she added. "I don't think there was much left of him when Eomer and Prince Legolas had finished." Suddenly, she did not feel all that hungry. Managing some tea and a piece of bread, she pushed back her chair. "You say he has gone?" she asked.

Amrothos nodded. "Father saw to it" he told her.

"Good." Taking a couple of apples from the bowl on the table, she stood. "If Ada wants to know, I am going to visit the stables, and then I must meet Faramir, for we have an archery competition to win."

Amrothos' lips quirked into a grin. "Against who?" she asked.

"King Eomer and his sister" Lothiriel told him.

Her brother laughed loudly. "Thiri, this I have to see. I'll be there" he promised.

Lothiriel had a smile on her lips as she left the house. Trusting her father had taken care of that disgusting Ekilien, she had no fear as she walked alone to the stables. Her mare was fidgeting as she approached and received her apple greedily. "I know, I would like to ride out as well" she told her mare sadly. "But, alas, I am confined to the city until we know what attacked Eomer's horse. I will ride you as soon as I may." With one last rub of the mare's velvety nose, she moved to her other new friend.

Firefoot stamped a hoof in welcome as he saw her approach. Lothiriel laughed as a muffled curse came from his stall.

"Bema! You are a horrible creature" Eomer grumbled at his horse, who had knocked him when he moved, before he straightened somewhat sheepishly, noticing Lothiriel. "Good morning" he said, the suspicion of heightened colour on his cheeks as he smiled at her.

"Did he stand on you?" Lothiriel asked, concerned. "I did not know you were there."

"I was checking on his foreleg" Eomer explained. "I think perhaps he will be strong enough to ride tomorrow, at least for a little while."

Lothiriel nodded and remembered the apple she had as Firefoot nudged her impatiently with his nose. As the stallion crunched up his treat, Eomer pushed him out of the way so he could leave the stall. "How fare you, this morning?" he asked, his quick eyes taking in the dark bruise on her cheek and the cut to her lower lip.

"I am recovered, except for the bruising" Lothiriel told him, surprised as she realised that she was speaking the truth. "But there are more interesting things to speak of this day. Tell me, are you ready to be beaten by two Gondorians?"

Eomer's look of surprise quickly vanished, to be replaced by a wide grin. "You are so sure you will win?" he teased, holding an arm for her as they made their way out of the stables.

"Please, Eomer, we from Dol Amroth have Elvish ancestry. You don't stand a chance." She laughed as he scowled down at her.

"I may have you write those words down, so that you can actually eat them" he told her darkly.

They continued with their teasing banter and soon met up with Eowyn and Faramir, who were enjoying the sun in the courtyard of the healing houses. Lothiriel found herself explaining what had happened to her again, but was saved from anymore questions by a look shared between Eomer and his sister.

The four of them made their way to the target practice arena and collected their weapons from the armoury. Eomer and his sister were soon equipped with solid-looking plain bows. Faramir's was also plain, but a more slender, elegant weapon. Lothiriel's bow was a thing of beauty. Inherited from her mother, the bow was inlaid with silver flowers which wound round the delicate dark wood.

Eomer raised an eyebrow at the fine weapon, and Lothiriel and Faramir traded a quick smile.

As they moved towards the practice arena, Lothiriel became aware that they were not alone. She could easily spot her brother Amrothos lounging at one corner with a handful of his friends. A few of the fashionable ladies of the court were hanging around close to them, gossiping and flirting whenever one of the men looked their way.

Standing nearby, to Lothiriel's surprise, was Legolas. The elf gave her a bright smile as she caught his eye, and made his way over to the foursome.

"I thought, perhaps, you could do with an impartial judge" he said, his light voice tinged with excitement at the thought of the entertainment awaiting him. This was discussed and agreed by all the contestants. Before long, Lothiriel found herself lining up with the others to start the first round.

"You will all shoot five arrows in succession. The one with the highest score from each side will progress to the next round" Legolas told them. "In your own time, you may begin."

Putting all thoughts of the opposition out of her mind, Lothiriel drew an arrow from her quiver and steadied her breathing, concentrating on the target. The distance was not too taxing for her, but was further than she was used to starting her practice at. She sighed as the first arrow went a little wide of the centre. She was happy with her other four shots, the last of which almost split another as it landed in the target. First to finish, she waited as the others took their last shots.

As soon as Eowyn's last arrow left her bow, Legolas sprinted down the range, seeming to Lothiriel almost to keep pace with the arrow, he moved so fast. He bent and minutely examined each target. "This one for the Riddermark!" he called, his hand on Eomer's target. "And this for Gondor!" His hand rested on Lothiriel's.

Shocked that she had beaten her cousin, she could not keep the smile off her face. Faramir shook his head, and laughed. "Perhaps you should have been the ranger" he told her. "Good luck, Thiri. Please win, for the sake of our pride." He bent and kissed her good cheek and then left the field as instructed by their elven umpire.

Lothiriel snuck a look at Eomer, whose eyes told his surprise that she had bested Faramir, and then she focussed on the next part of the test that Legolas had rapidly designed. The golden-haired prince led them over to another part of the practice area, where smaller targets hung from stout trees on thick ropes. These targets were held to one side by another length of rope which, when unfastened would allow the target to swing across their path.

Frowning, Lothiriel took her place, knowing that her weakness lay in hitting a moving target. She had never quite learned the knack of aiming to hit something that did not stand still. As the first target swung out, she braced herself and took her shot, not able to withhold a sigh as her arrow landed off-centre of the small target. Eomer had hit his dead centre. Lothiriel could not help but glance across at him, seeing with a flash of irritation that a wide grin had spread across his tanned face.

Twice more the targets were set loose, and twice more Lothiriel was narrowly beaten. Surprised by how annoyed she felt that she was losing, she was relieved when Legolas drew them to the third corner of the practice area.

"This is designed for speed as well as accuracy" Legolas told them both, showing them to their starting points.

Lothiriel shot a quick look over the course, seeking out where the targets were set along the roped-out course.

"You must cross the obstacles and make your shots in the fastest time to win." The prince's light elven tones were bright with excitement. "On a count of three … two … one … go!"

Lothiriel was wholly focussed on the first target as she ran. She had used this course before, and it did not look to have changed. Faramir had trained her here on her last visit to Minas Tirith almost eighteen months ago. Dropping to a crouch, she took her first shot, nodding in satisfaction as it hit the centre of the low target. Running again, she dived over a stack of hay bales, coming back to her feet in a roll, just as Faramir had taught her. Turning sharply to the right, she took her next shot at a target which stood a long distance away. Chasing after her arrow, she ran down a narrow path, throwing herself under a log that barred her way. Two more targets stood on either side of the path in front of her. Hitting their centres in rapid succession, moved on, turning a corner and clearing a fast-flowing stream that ran across the track with one leap. She landed lightly on the other side and aimed up high to a target that was suspended from the topmost branches of a thick-trunked tree. Chasing back to the start, her grey eyes landed on Eomer, and she let out a shout of joy as she saw she had narrowly won one round at least.

Eomer crossed the finish line seconds later to the sound of good-natured cheering from Amrothos and his friends, as well as a handful of soldiers of Rohan, who had seen their King involved in the contest and had wandered over to watch.

Lothiriel, her eyes shining brightly, stepped lightly to him and put out her hand. "Good game" she said, grinning at Eomer's scowl.

It was less than two seconds before his fierce expression melted away, his ready grin springing to his lips. "You truly are your father's daughter" he said. "I will accept my defeat by such a worthy opponent for one round. It is clear that the archers of the mark are far superior overall. I will accept my prize, Lothiriel."

"As soon as I may smuggle it from under my father's nose" Lothiriel promised. "But you must share it with your sister."

"Unlikely to happen" Eowyn snorted, pushing past her brother to embrace Lothiriel. "Congratulations, Princess. I am glad you bested us in that last round, if only to have seen may brother's face. That stunned-fish look was priceless when he realised he had lost."

Eomer poked her in the ribs with a snarl. "You are the most unnatural sister" he growled.

"Don't take the loss too badly, Eomer" Faramir's light voice was laced with amusement. "It is not like you were bested by a woman who barely reaches your shoulder."

Eomer rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Enough!" he exclaimed, pushing his unruly hair back from his face. "You do remember that I actually won, don't you?" As he spoke, a young soldier of Gondor ran panting into the practice area, making his way over to them.

"Your pardon, my Lords" he said, bowing hastily. "The King Elessar has requested a meeting with Eomer King, if it is convenient."

"A reprieve, my Lord" Faramir said, smiling.

"I must go" Eomer said, looking considerably relieved. "Will you escort Lothiriel home?"

"A pleasure, my Lord" Faramir told him.

Eomer thanked him and turned to Lothiriel. "Forgive me for my abrupt departure. I will see you tonight?"

Lothiriel nodded. "I hear Mithrandir is to give a firework display after dinner. I shall look for you."

Bowing over her hand, Eomer gave his sister a careless wave as he turned and followed the Gondorian soldier back towards the court of the King.

Lothiriel could not help but turn to watch him leave, and blushed as she caught her cousin's amused eye on her. She was about to speak when Legolas reappeared at her elbow. "Congratulations, my Lady" he said, his bright blue eyes brimming with merriment.

"Thank you" Lothiriel replied. "I thought I would lose altogether, when you introduced the second round. At least I did not do so badly overall"

"I thought you did not shoot your best on the second round" Legolas replied, adding with a grin: "I could help you overcome your fear of a moving target, if you would like."

"I don't know what I do wrong" Lothiriel confessed, meeting the elven prince's eyes with a sheepish grin. "Could you help me?"

"It's quite simple" the elf began, piloting her away from the group by her elbow, back towards the moving targets. "You moved your bow along the path of the target as you aimed for your shot. You should aim for where the target will be. If I may?" he asked, holding out one slender arm.

Lothiriel handed over her bow and one of her arrows, before taking a step back to watch.

With the grace only an elf could manage, Legolas smoothly drew back the bowstring. "You need to see where the target will move to and fire accordingly. "Watch." He nodded to the Gondorian soldier who manned the targets, who rushed to untie the rope and set one free.

Lothiriel watched as Legolas' eyes narrowed, and he loosed the arrow. As it hit the target dead centre, the elf turned. "Did you see?" he asked.

Lothiriel frowned. "I think so" she said, stepping forward and taking back her bow from his outstretched hands. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the line and took aim. She nodded to the soldier, who loosed a target. Concentrating fiercely, she aimed for where she thought the target would be, rather than where it was. Loosing the arrow, she nervously watched its path, holding her breath as she was sure it would miss. In disbelief, she saw her arrow hit near to the centre. Whirling round, she laughed in joy and embraced the highly amused elf-prince.

"Thank you!" Lothiriel cried happily, laughing as Legolas returned her embrace.

"Thiri."

Amrothos' stern tone made Lothiriel sober instantly, blushing as she realised the impropriety of her behaviour, especially in such a staid city.

"Do not allow your free spirit to be crushed by this place" Legolas whispered lightly into her ear, and then stepped lightly away from her, bowed low and seemed to vanish, so quickly did he move.

"What would Ada say?" Amrothos admonished, as he led his sister firmly away from the practice grounds.

Lothiriel sighed inwardly. She hated feeling guilty for behaving how she wished to. All her life she had been constrained by the rigid guidelines of what was 'proper'. Heartily sick of being told not to do so many things, she could not help but wish she had not been born a princess of such a country. If only she could be herself, how happy she would be!

"Don't tell Ada" she whispered sadly, wondering how it was that one small act could be enough to bring such censure down upon her head.

"Thiri, you were badly hurt by a man last night. I'm just not happy seeing you so close to another before they can prove themselves worthy of your companionship. Besides, you know how Ada feels. You must behave with dignity appropriate to your station. I cannot promise that he will not have been informed about your archery tournament. It probably does not feature on his list of appropriate womanly behaviour" Amrothos' look was sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Thiri. I hate seeing you like this."

Lothiriel, making an effort to be cheerful for her favourite brother, allowed him to escort her back to the house.

After luncheon Lothiriel, in an effort to please her father, sat down to a tapestry he had asked her to sew for a room in his palace at Dol Amroth. It had always been a disappointment to him that Lothiriel never seemed to show much interest in the pursuits of a genteel lady, and Lothiriel felt this keenly. And so she sat in her chamber at the open window, with Hileth at her side. Lothiriel was growing more frustrated by the moment. After every few stitches, Hileth would put a hand on her arm, stilling her and gently taking the needle from her to unpick her crooked stitches.

After an hour of what felt like torture, Lothiriel dropped the cloth to the floor with an irritated huff. "Why does Ada want me to do this, Hileth?" she complained, almost sulkily.

"You father wants to be proud that you can be accomplished as well as beautiful, my lady" Hileth told her in a gentle voice. "Like any other man, he wants to be proud of his daughter."

"Why can he not see that I might be accomplished in other ways?" Lothiriel asked, anger creeping into her tone. "I am no good at being a lady. I cannot sew, or sing, or draw, or play a harp. I hate paying simpering comments to empty-headed courtiers and dancing with men who wish to court me only to marry into royalty. I can manage a household, is that not enough for him to be able to marry me off? Why must I learn to sew and paint?"

"My lady, you are tired. Perhaps I can fetch you a cup of water, and we can take a gentle turn about the garden?" the maid looked at her sadly. As sorry as she felt for her, she still felt that Lothiriel should have been taught so much more by now. 'If only her mother had not died' Hileth thought. 'What a lady she would have been.'

Sighing, Lothiriel agreed to the walk. Her irritable mood lasted for the rest of the afternoon, and all through dinner. She did not involve herself in conversation over the dinner table as she usually did, causing her father to look at her in some concern.

"Daughter, are you well?" he asked her softly. "Do you dwell on your misfortune last night?"

Lothiriel shook her head automatically. "No, Ada, I am quite well. I had not given much thought to last night, after I knew that man had left the city."

"Thiri had a busy day competing against Eomer King and his sister in an archery contest" Amrothos put in, grinning. "I fear, however, she did not do Gondor proud, as she was beaten."

"Indeed." Prince Imrahil's tone was neutral, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Perhaps, Lothiriel, competing in such a way might make the court frown upon you. The women of Rohan are very boisterous creatures. I am sure you do not wish people to have that impression of you."

"Forgive me, if I have disappointed you" Lothiriel said, reining in her anger with an effort. "I only meant to be polite to our guests; I did not mean to hurt my reputation."

"The favour of the court is not to be lightly discarded, my daughter. My own efforts to find you a worthy man to marry have not been what I could have hoped. I only fear that your antics might dissuade a worthy suitor."

"I shall strive to act with greater decorum in future" Lothiriel managed to reply, blinking back the angry tears that were stinging her eyes.

"I do not mean to upset you, my child" Imrahil said, more gently now. "I will not be around forever, and I need to know that you are well provided for. Just promise me you will think your actions through carefully."

"I promise, Ada" Lothiriel replied woodenly, still too infuriated to meet his eyes.

The rest of the meal passed in largely strained silence. Lothiriel pushed her food around her plate, not managing to force any more down her tight throat. She had never really liked court life, but found herself despising it more every day. If only her father could see that she would be quite happy to see out her days in Dol Amroth. She would have been perfectly content to remain unwed, or to be married to a country gentleman who had no time for appearing at court. So long as she had her family, she did not want for anything else. She wished that life could be that simple.

Lothiriel excused herself from the table as soon as she was able, explaining that she needed time to dress appropriately for the evening's entertainment. Her father's gentle rebuke of her behaviour had stung her more than she was prepared to admit. She had felt like flouncing from the room in anger, and she wanted to shout that the King of Rohan did not seem to mind her unladylike conduct. But that would have meant that she would have been left in the house until she had mended her manners.

Hileth, seeing her young charge was still fuming, crept around the room timidly as Lothiriel took her bath.

The princess, as she dried herself off, finally spotted her maid's behaviour and her bad mood lessened as she realised what she was doing to the older woman. "I'm sorry, Hil" she said gently. "It has been a trying day."

"Never you mind, my Lady" Hileth said, her warm voice soothing. "We will dress you as fine as a Lady could be, and your father will forget his words to you."

Lothiriel could not help but smile at her maid's hopeful words. She embraced her old maid and dearest friend warmly. "You are so good to me" she said. "I will let you do as you wish; I can only hope that you can work magic, for I fear I will never make it as a Lady."

"We shall see" Hileth said, turning to the closet and rummaging through the silks and satins. She drew out a long dress of the deepest blue, richly embroidered in silver. "As the lady of the house of Dol Amroth, you will please your father."

Lothiriel felt her first genuine smile since that morning cross her face. "You are a genius, Hil" she exclaimed. "Let us start my transformation; we don't have long."


	4. Chapter 4

Half an hour later, Lothiriel nervously began her walk down the stairs to meet her family. As usual, her father and the youngest of her brothers were waiting for her in the hall.

Amrothos looked up first and gave a surprised whistle. "Look who has grown up" he said, with a teasing smile as he took in her appearance.

Lothiriel, along with the dark blue and silver gown, had donned silver-white elbow length gloves. Her hair was twisted atop her head in an elegant knot, held with a clasp inlaid with pearls. Around her neck was her mother's string of pearls, and her feet were shod in dainty velvet slippers.

Prince Imrahil's smile was warm. "My lady Princess" he said, bowing formally for the first time to his youngest child. "Truly, I thank you for honouring me in this way. I am glad to see that you have understood and agree with the words I spoke to you this evening."

Lothiriel swept a curtsey in response. She was determined to show her father that she could manage not to be a disappointment to him, if only for one evening. Rising, she accepted the midnight blue cloak that he held out for her. Warm as the nights were becoming as spring was fast turning to summer, she would be cold in the thin silk dress she wore. Once the cloak was fastened, she placed a gloved hand upon her father's arm and walked beside him down the path to the front gates. If she must, she would be the picture of Gondorian propriety. She was tired of her father's gentle remonstrations and sighed inwardly as she realised that she no longer wanted to fight them.

Lothiriel was completely unaware that they were being followed, as was the rest of the party, on their way to the highest level of the city where Gandalf was to set off his fireworks. No-one saw the thin, dark-skinned man who slipped from shadow to shadow, trailing the Prince of Dol Amroth and his two youngest children. The man slipped through the crowds, so close to them that he could almost hear their conversation. But he did not need to get that close; he just had to make sure that she was the one that had been seen in the company of the King of the Horselords. The thin man, Nazgung, Captain to the leader of what was left of the army of Khand, was sure it was her. The woman he had seen earlier that day on the practice grounds had such spirit; he hoped that he could have a turn with her, once she had been snatched from her home. She would be tamed, and this would make sure that the horselord's spirit would be broken utterly before he met his end. How foolish these men were! How weak, to worry about something as insignificant as a woman! Nazgung had seen how much freedom was granted to the young woman, as with most women now in these supposed times of peace. She would be far easier prey than attempting to capture Rohan's King. The poisoned dart that had been fired at him when he rode out of the city had no doubt put him on his guard, as it had missed him but had hit his horse. This new way of killing him seemed far more elegant, and settled the score against the leader of the Swan Knights also. The leader was sure that Rohan's King would have also been slain that fateful day of the Knights of Dol Amroth had not rode out to his aid. Capturing the Princess would show how the people of Khand were still a force to be feared. Nazgung was looking forward to the death of this King. The horselord had killed too many of Nazgung's kin on the field of the Pelennor for him to remain alive. Regardless of his leader's ambition to sit upon the throne of Edoras, Nazgung would be quite happy just to see the young King of Rohan dead.

Nazgung watched until the Dol Amroth party met up with the royal party of Gondor and of Rohan. 'Oh yes', he thought as he watched her make a curtsey to the young King of the Mark; 'she is the right prey.' As silently as he had come, he floated away into the crowd.

Lothiriel remained appropriately subdued as she curtseyed to King Elessar and his betrothed. Legolas, who stood beside them, flashed her a concerned look. She did not respond to it, but turned and made her curtsey to the King of the Mark.

Eomer acknowledged her with a grave bow, a question in his expressive eyes.

Lothiriel felt those dark eyes sweep over her, taking in her stiff bearing and her reserved demeanour. She felt a wave of sadness as she saw his confusion at the abrupt change in her manner. Taking her place beside her father, Lothiriel snuck a glance up at him, seeing with a flash of irritation that he seemed inordinately pleased by her behaviour. Perhaps she had not yet submitted to his will that she would be a 'proper' Gondorian lady, after all. Sighing, Lothiriel felt that, once again, it was going to be a long night.

The fireworks provided a good distraction, saving her from making polite conversation with her father. Imrahil, like most of the others around them, was engrossed by the spectacle of the dazzling display.

Lothiriel had found her thoughts wandering, her gaze frequently slipping to Rohan's King, who was stood not far from her. She felt his eyes burn into hers as their gaze happened to meet. His look was not one of hurt, which Lothiriel had feared, but rather was puzzled and watchful. She just hoped that he could understand that he was not the reason why she had become so silent and demure.

A flash of gold made the princess flick her eyes further over to the left. Legolas had moved silently to stand behind her. "I hope my actions earlier did not cause this change" he whispered, so that only she could hear.

Lothiriel, cursing the perceptiveness of her elven friend, was unable to answer as she feared her father would hear. She shook her head very slightly, knowing from Legolas' expression that he did not wholly believe her. Unable to answer him further as her father glanced down at her then to ask her a question, the princess knew that she would have to try to find a way to explain herself to the elf.

Sighing, she turned away to answer Imrahil's question. One look at the pride in his sea-grey eyes made her realise that she could manage to act with the decorum he desired of her for at least the rest of the day.

The fireworks were over and Lothiriel realised that she had not really seen any of the display. As her father began to move, Lothiriel followed meekly in his wake but then realised that she had no idea where they were going.

"We go to the banqueting hall" Imrahil told her, seeing her puzzled frown. "There is to be no dancing this eve, but bards and musicians are to tell stories and sing songs. I think you will enjoy a rest from the excitement of a dance. Perhaps you will make the end of the night unscathed, my daughter."

Lothiriel's mood was brightened by the unexpected lightness of her father's tone, feeling again that she would be able to endure this night after all.

The mood in the banqueting hall was merry and the crowd was bright with the anticipation of the evening's continued entertainment. Lothiriel took her place to her father's left, in an area set aside for the guests of honour. Looking swiftly around the area, she saw her brother Erchirion in conversation with the captain of Faramir's rangers, and Amrothos had his head close to the ear of a young women, whispering something that made her flush a deep red. With a flash of amusement, Lothiriel let her eyes wander around the rest of the group. Her cousin was, as usual, by the Lady Eowyn's side. She could not help but look to Eowyn's right; Eomer's face was solemn, his gaze distracted. Sighing, Lothiriel felt her good mood begin to slip away.

Her attention was drawn to the stage as a hush fell over the gathering. To her surprise, she saw the King had quietly stepped forward. There was silence in the room as he began to speak.

"My friends" he began. He did not seem to raise his melodic voice, but it carried easily to all ears. "I welcome you to an evening of a different kind of entertainment. Never before have so many nations and races gathered together in a time of peace. What better way to celebrate this than by sharing songs and tales of our own people, so that others may learn? I present to you Gilmith, Bard of Minas Tirith."

Gentle applause rippled around the room as a tall, slender man strode forward onto the stage and bowed low to the new King. As he turned to face the crowd, Lothiriel saw the long, still-healing scar that ran down the right-hand side of his face, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Even a bard, it seemed, had not been safe from the fighting. But then he began to speak and Lothiriel was entranced by the man's chosen topic; a tale of the Golden age of Gondor. She had always loved stories and history, and the little-heard tale was fascinating.

After Gilmith had departed the stage, to loud applause, Lothiriel saw her father's bard approach the stage, clutching a lute. The song he began was one she had heard many times, and she found her attention wandering. Not being able to help herself, her eyes strayed to where she had last seen Eomer and was surprised to see that he was making his way over to her, a calculating look in his eyes. He flashed her a quick smile as he approached, but waited for the bard to finish his song before he spoke.

"Such a picture he painted of Dol Amroth" he said, conversationally. "I have always longed to look upon the sea, for it is quite unlike anything I have ever known. Is it as beautiful as the song claims it to be?"

His tone was perfect; just the right amount of polite interest and Lothiriel had to restrain herself from flashing a thankful grin. "It is, I think, a sight that cannot truly be put into words. But doubtless you feel the same about your home."

"I do indeed" Eomer replied. "One day, perhaps, you may visit the Mark, and make a comparison of your own."

"I should like that very much" Lothiriel told him. "I'm afraid I do not know very much at all about Rohan, for there is nothing in our library that tells of your people."

"We have few scholars in the Mark" Eomer said. Our history is told in song and in tales, and is rarely written down. But here is one of our finest story tellers" he nodded towards the stage. "He is to tell of Eorl the Young and the founding of the Mark. You must tell me what you think." He bowed slightly, and moved back into the crowd.

Lothiriel turned back to the stage, seeing an old man of Rohan with grey streaked in his blond hair and beard. He, too, had not escaped injury on the battlefield and wore a bandage across his right eye. As he began his story, Lothiriel found herself captivated by his deep, lilting voice as he passionately told of the founding of Rohan.

As the bard finished, to thunderous applause, Lothiriel looked up to her father, who had turned to face her. "Walk with me, my daughter" Imrahil said, holding his arm for her.

Lothiriel followed him, aware as she did so that there had been a break in the story-telling, and many people were heading outside for a breath of fresh air away from the stuffiness of the hall.

"How are you enjoying the evening?" Imrahil asked her, smiling slightly at the look of relief on his daughter's face, now they were in the cooler air.

"I greatly enjoyed the tale of Rohan" Lothiriel replied readily, glad that she had made it this far into the evening with her father still pleased with her conduct. "But I am surprised that no new tales have been written of the latest events. Will a story be told of all your heroic efforts to save the good people of the world?"

Imrahil looked down at her. "I think there may be some later, but there is still much sadness mingled with the joy of our victory. It will be many years before the people are healed from the terrible events of these past few years."

Lothiriel nodded her agreement, pleased that her father had shared so much with her. She knew he did not like to speak with her on such matters, as he thought her too young and delicate to hear tales of war. She did not have time to reply, as one of her father's captains came up beside them and, with a respectful bow, spoke to him in a quiet voice. Knowing by her father's frown that it was not good news, Lothiriel looked anxiously up at him, hoping for news.

Imrahil said something quickly to the Captain, who left swiftly, then turned back to Lothiriel, deliberately relaxing his stance as he saw her questioning glance. "One of the men has had an accident" he told her softly, in response to her unspoken question.

"What happened to him?" Lothiriel asked, watching with a flash of irritation as her father opened his mouth as if to answer before closing it abruptly.

"It was just an accident, my daughter" he told her gently. "I think I must pay him a visit, to check how he fares. I will leave you in Amrothos' care." He led her back inside and, after a quick exchange with his youngest son, left the room, followed by Erchirion, who had approached them when he had seen the concern on their father's face.

It was in a conflicted mood that Lothiriel watched her father leave. She was happy that she had been trusted to remain at the evening's entertainment, but frustrated that she did not know what was going on. One quick look at Amrothos told her that she would not have any luck asking him and she sighed, turning back to watch the next performance that was just beginning. She identified him as a ranger of Ithilien, by his dress, but she did not hear the start of his song, as Legolas appeared at her side.

"I owe you an apology my Lady" he said, his lyrical voice soft. "I did not mean to cause you trouble yesterday."

"Please, you did nothing" Lothiriel told him. "I forget myself sometimes. It has ever been a trial to my father." Looking up at him, she saw the flash of confusion in his bright eyes and could not help but smile. "He wishes for me to make a good match in marriage here in Minas Tirith" she explained "and does not wish me to jeopardise my happiness with unthinking behaviour."

A flash of understanding crossed the elf's face. "I see" he said, more to himself than to her. He looked down at her and smiled. "You humans are so _complicated_ at times" he said, his good humour apparently restored. And then he cocked his head to one side slightly and sighed softly. "Forgive me, my lady, but I must go. I can hear Gimli searching for me. He will soon disrupt the entertainment if I do not stop him." With a quick bow, he slipped away through the crowd.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned to see her brother had moved to stand beside her. The expression in his clear grey eyes was watchful. Raising her chin slightly in an almost defiant gesture, she looked up at him. "What is it, Rothos?" she asked.

"You look like Naneth" he said unexpectedly, his voice soft. "She would be so proud of you, Lothi."

All the irritation Lothiriel she had felt at her family that evening drained out of her as her brother spoke those words. The sudden memory of the ever-smiling dark haired woman, who softly sung old songs about the sea, brought a sad smile to her face. She had never really thought how hard it must be for her father to have brought her up without his wife. She had only ever thought how difficult it had been for her to have grown up without a mother. It was the first time in many years that she had heard Amrothos mention their mother so freely, and it had surprised her. Many things reminded Lothiriel of their mother, from the smell of primroses, which had been her favourite scent, to the colour of the grass on a bright spring morning, which was the exact shade of her eyes. But she had never seen her mother in a mirror, and wondered that the comparison had never been made to her before. Lothiriel was brought back to the present by Amrothos' light voice.

"I have to ask, Lothi, why the change in appearance?"

"I have caused enough trouble for one week" Lothiriel replied, with a shame-faced grin. She frowned as Amrothos raised one elegant eyebrow. "What?" she asked, defensively.

Amrothos grinned. "Oh, Lothi, you don't even realise, do you?"

"Realise what?" she asked, in some irritation.

Laughing softly, Amrothos bent his head closer to her. "You thought you had trouble with suitors before? I have been given strict instruction not to introduce you to anyone this eve. Even with that bruise on your face, half the men of Gondor have spent this past hour or more trying to catch your eye."

Blushing furiously, Lothiriel managed a glare at her brother. "Rothos! Surely you jest" she said, uncomfortably. As much as she had put the unpleasant memory of the last young man of Gondor to have 'courted' her firmly behind her, the idea of being watched by other such as he did not yet sit comfortably with her.

Amrothos seemed to pick up on her change of temperament and looked down at her guiltily. "I meant nothing by it, Lothi" he said, quickly. "I only wanted to tease you."

Lothiriel was saved from replying as the crowd erupted into applause again and the ranger from Ithilien left the stage, to be replaced by a Gondorian story-teller who began a light-hearted tale of a Corsair who planned a great attack of piracy. His plan was thwarted by a bright young maid who reformed him against his will into a gentleman. Lothiriel had heard the tale many times, as it was often told to lighten the mood at such events, and willingly she listened to him and the others that followed.

The entertainment over, Amrothos began to lead her away from the gathering. It was not until then that Lothiriel realised that she had not spoken again with Eomer. She looked about her as she followed her brother from the hall and frowned as she saw that he was not there. Neither was Faramir, she realised, but the lady Eowyn was talking quietly with Eothain. Gondor's new King was missing as well. Something had happened; something serious. She turned to Amrothos when they were a little further from the hall, determined to be told. "Rothos, why did Ada really leave earlier?" she asked bluntly.

Amrothos sighed. "I'm not to tell you, Lothi" he said, his grey eyes pleading for her to be satisfied with his answer.

"It must be something bad" Lothiriel mused out loud, ignoring his expression. "King Elessar was missing from the entertainment also, as was our cousin and King Eomer. Surely if it concerns my safety, then I should know?"

"Wait until we are home" Amrothos said curtly.

Lothiriel nodded, knowing then that he would tell her. Amrothos was the only one of her brothers that would share information with her, when her father had forbidden it. They walked in silence through the dark streets to their father's house. Amrothos led her into his suite of rooms and poured them both a glass of wine, before he took a seat in front of the fire and waited until she had joined him. "Well, you have decided you wish to be told, Lothi, so here goes. The first stirrings of unrest have been noted from the surviving enemy forces of the war. The poisoned dart you found in the King of the Mark's horse was the first attack. Since then, both soldiers of Rohan and our own Knights have been attacked in similar ways. Father left earlier when we were told of the fate of a patrolling party of four swan knights, who were ambushed and killed. It was made to look like a theft gone wrong, but the bodies were found by some of Faramir's rangers, who are well versed in the scenes of such crimes, and they saw the truth in it. The King is not yet crowned, and already there is unrest. Elessar and his advisors are to decide what must be done." Amrothos pushed his black curls back from his face and shot a quick look at his sister. "Have you heard enough?" he asked; his voice softening as he saw how white she was.

Lothiriel suddenly felt tired. "I thought that these were supposed to be days of peace" she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

Amrothos slid an arm about her shoulders and pulled her to him. "Fear not sister; we shall overcome this new threat" he told her firmly.

Lothiriel felt a shudder of fear and leant closer to the youngest of her brothers. "I thought we would be safe from this all, now" she said quietly. "What a fool I am."

"Hush, Lothi" Amrothos said softly, kissing her on the top of her head. "It will be no more than an unruly band of rogues. We will have this slight trouble dealt with before you know it. Do not let it trouble you, sweet."

Lothiriel nodded, trying to feel comforted by her brother's words, but with a feeling of dread creeping into her stomach. "I think I'll go to my room" she said, pulling free and standing. "Thank you for trusting me with the news Rothos." With a sad smile at him, she turned left him staring into his cup of wine.

With the news of unrest running uneasily through her mind, Lothiriel undressed and got into bed. It was not just worry for her family this time that kept her from sleep, but of all those she had met during her short time at Minas Tirith. Resolving to discover what plans had been made to counter these new attacks, Lothiriel passed an uneasy night.


End file.
